


Entirely Ruptured

by gallabich



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M, Marijuana, Sexual Content, South Park: The Fractured But Whole, Theres also some crenny but i wont tag it, city AU, clyde is a huge dickwad, tweek's a fucking badass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-25 11:58:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13833810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallabich/pseuds/gallabich
Summary: Superpowers weren't as special as they used to be. When Craig develops his, he doesn't think much will change, until he meets a popular elementalist who helps him control his powers. Secrets are revealed, a war is started, chaos ensues, and Craig's seemingly normal life is turned upside down.





	1. Ordinarily Rare

**Author's Note:**

> ITS FINALLY HERE! I’ve been working on this story since July but I had waited for Fractured to come out, and to get at least 3/4ths of the story outlined. I’m working on chapter 4 right now :D 
> 
> A few important things::  
> *first off, updates might be slowish. I’m a very busy 'adult' with a very busy work schedule and home life. But I’ll try my hardest to make it AT LEAST biweekly/once a month 
> 
> *second, they live in a big city. And its really fucking shitty like Gotham. This is also a XMEN mutant-based au (or BNHA, whatever) where they’re born with their powers and sometimes they don’t show up till they’re much older. ALSO they're not all the same age/as tight knit as they are in the show
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this!!!

     It was on a cold January Friday morning when Craig found out he was special.

Though honestly at this point, there was nothing special about having what he had. Nearly 80% of the population had something special about them. And from what Craig can determine, his specialty was more common than ever.

Special would be what The Mosquito had. Special would be controlling the weather or shooting lasers from your eyes. Or claiming that you “never die” like Mysterion’s alleged power.

But no.

At this day and age there was nothing special about super strength. Even if that meant punching the biggest basketball jock in South Park High sending him back 3 lockers, giving him a bloody nose, knocking him out cold, and the ambulance needing to come rush him to the ER.  

Nope. Nothing special about that.

The only thing special about it was getting a letter of exemption from the principle. Craig didn’t know about these powers, and Clyde pissed him off enough to show the world that they were there. Whether they liked it or not. His dad would be proud though. And as he sat outside Mr. Mackey’s office he could hear his voice already in his head, _Proud of you son! Super strength is probably the easiest to control so chucking through this will be a breeze!_

But he was wrong. Doing things that were easy just a few hours ago was exceptionally hard. He bit the pen he was chewing on a little too hard, and the ink splattered all over his face. He grunted in frustration and (hardly) tapped his foot, creating a dent in the linoleum, which cracked straight down on the way to the cafeteria.

“Craig Tucker?”

As Craig heard his name be called he stood up quickly. Mackey stared down at the damaged linoleum and then to Craig, gesturing him to come in.

It was all too familiar. The back of Mackey’s head. The fan in the middle of the room that was off due to it being nearly 20 degrees out. The bookshelf in the back next to the tall file cabinets that looked extremely unorganized. The desk with an outdated computer because this school was too poor to even think about getting any teachers decent computers. The two chairs with no desk between them like the principle’s office. Oh yes. Craig was very used to this room.

“Mmkay Craig, I heard what happened in Gym today regarding you and Mr. Donovan.”

“Yeah, you and the rest of the school.” Craig took a seat in the chair closest to the door, leaning a little and crossing his arms. At least that was easy for him to do.

Mr. Mackey got a folder out of one of his file cabinets, a very thick manila folder filled with old papers and sticky notes all around it, he licked his fingertips as he skimmed almost every single one of the papers, especially the most recent ones, “So it doesn’t seem like you’ve had a problem regarding these powers before. When you woke up this morning how did you feel?”

Craig shrugged, “Like shit. Headache. Muscle aches.”

“And you’re on the track team?”

Another shrug. It wasn’t his choice for track. It was agreement that he’d take one sport to consideration once he started high school to try to help with his behavior issues. He thought track would be the easiest, “yeah.”

Macky nodded his head once, “And what was the conversation you and Mr. Donovan had before you punched him?”

Was he really fucking asking this? Craig looked at him, face not changing once, “He asked if my mother got any razors for Christmas this year.” Bush Tucker. A joke that has been haunting Craig since the fourth grade. Somehow some way, some kid got videos of his mother naked years ago. Ever since, she’s been called Bush Tucker. People mess with Craig about it, especially Clyde.

Mackey nodded once again. Craig wondered if he found this humorous but knew how to remain collected, “Mkay. Understandable. Well Craig as you know, there are a lot of options to help you out. Unfortunately we don’t offer them at this school because of budget cuts, but there are programs out there with different classes to help you, mmkay? There’s also the option of transferring if you feel like that’s the better option for you.”

“Transfer? To the X-men school?”

“Dr. Timothy’s school, yes. And call it by its true name, Mkay?”

“That’s a mouthful. I’d rather not transfer.”

“Let’s try to be serious now Craig, mmkay? Now give me a moment and I’ll get you some brochures from other places.” He left the room and Craig sighed and slouched in the chair even more. He knew his mother would think this program would be a great idea, but his father would try to do everything he could to not have his son go. Too much money for something that should be as easy as controlling super strength. But transferring to a whole school filled with kids who were probably full of themselves? Transferring to a school where the principal knew every thought and every plan you had? Craig would rather take whatever bullshit program this school suggested. Mackey came back with a sheet of paper, looking through it, “Mmkay Craig there are some really good options that are pretty close to here. I’ve had a lot of kids go to the one at the South Park Rec Center.”

“You really think I’m gonna want to spend my free time at the fucking rec center?”  

“Language plea-don’t flip me off Craig! This is why your powers are so out of control. You let your anger get the best of you, you need to calm it down, mmkay?”

“Okay mom. But I’m not angry.” Craig crossed his arms again. Mackey ignored him as he wrote down something. He was probably used to it. Besides, they weren’t here for Craig’s _behavior_ for once.

“Get your parents to sign this,” It was an explanation of superpowers and different types. As if Craig had some type of tragic disease that needed to be coddled with, “And Craig, please control yourself. No flipping people off. No punching. That behavior is bad, mmkay?”  

Craig rolled his eyes and got up, leaving to his English class without saying another word. This school over reacted. As he walked down the busy school hallways, many of the kids looked at him in a much different light. He saw a group of girls whispering to each other, subtly pointing at him. Three seniors glanced back at them, one being on the Basketball team. He had a glare in his eyes, and Craig quickly averted him. As he gripped his binder, he could feel the cheap plastic sinking down and imprinting his fingertips. It reminded him of middle school all over again, when his secret was out.       

                The staring didn’t stop when he entered English class. A blonde girl who Craig dated for 2 days back in 6th grade smirked at him, and her friend giggled over her shoulder. The quarterback Stan Marsh screamed out, “Hell yeah dude! Kick his fucking ass!” His girlfriend rolled her eyes and told him to act mature.

Craig sat in the back next to Kenny, “Word really travels fast.”

“It’s the year of technology,” Kenny grinned, his crooked teeth showing, “It was recorded, shared. Practically viral for the whole city to see. Everyone’s talking about Craig Tucker the brutalist.”

“It’s stupid. This power sucks. I can’t touch anything without breaking it.” He placed his broken pen on his desk attempting to wipe off the rest of the ink that was on his chin.

“Dude, you know how lucky you are though? People can kill others with one touch! Or like, I dunno, set some people on fire.”

“It’s fucking stupid. They want me to go to the rec center and take a special class.”

“What really?” Kenny snatched the papers out of Craig’s hand and scoffed, “No dude. Fuck that. Join Freedom Pals. Bet they’re always looking for more people to join,” Kenny looked down at his desk, “Especially now. With the shit Chaos is trying to pull.”

“Chaos is hardly a threat,” Craig sneered, “he hasn’t done anything yet. He won’t do anything for a while. Not after Mysterion kicked his ass last.”

Kenny smirked a little and gave the paper back to Craig, “I’m just saying you should try it out. Wear a cool outfit and be loved by the city.”

“A cool outfit? What like, underwear over some tights?”

Kenny chuckled, “Hey I bet it’s more comfortable than it seems. Just think about it, dude.”

“Mysterion’s underwear or joining Coon and Friends?”

Kenny shoved his arm, “Okay smartass. You don’t have to wear a stupid costume is what I’m sayin’.” His smirk was almost convincing. And by the time the bell rang, Craig was actually giving it a thought. Sure, it was a lot of work. But it might help him out with learning how to control his powers. Captain Diabetes was a brutalist as well. He was adored by a lot of little kids who thought strength was all it takes. Craig was sure he had a few tips to help him not fucking dent a hole in his locker.

* * *

 

        The minute Craig walked in his house his father nearly perked up at the sight of him, “Craig! Son, how was your day?” he definitely knew what happened.

Craig looked down at his phone, seeming uninterested, “Same old bullshit. Punched a kid in the face.”

“Yes, the principal called. Said he had to go to the hospital for a concussion.”

Craig shrugged.

His father let out a laugh and pat Craig hard on the back, “I’m proud. I can’t believe someone in our family has powers. And a brute at that.”

“It’s not all that easy,” Craig muttered. Thinking about the pen that exploded in his face, or how he created the dent in his locker, or the pole he held onto the subway was now dented permanently and possibly had his fingerprints on it.

“You’ll get a hang of it.” His father said. He was smiling a genuine smile. One of those _‘I loved you before but I was kind of disappointed in the person you’ve been becoming. But now you’re strong and acting like a man’_ type smile. He decided right then to wait to give his dad the paper at the end of the weekend. 

Craig averted his eyes as we went upstairs and flopped on his bed, instantly regretting that as he heard a loud crack under him. Great. He broke his fucking bedframe. He groaned and leaned his head back, not bothering to mess with it right now. Or probably ever.

He had a routine when it came to coming home from school every Friday night. Red Racer. Nap. Homework until his mother called him down for dinner. Whatever homework he didn’t finish. Then, once it was 11 and parents were sound asleep, he would meet Kenny at the usual spot right down the alley between the movie theater and the coffee shop. There was a turn at the alley where apartments lined up. The two would climb the stairs up to the top of the building and smoke, looking over their hometown, talking about how wonderful it would be to leave this place.

Kenny wasn’t there, nor was he answering Craig’s thousands of messages to where the fuck he was. He thought maybe he could contemplate life and brood alone. But he didn’t have the stuff. It was no fun being high on your own. As he walked farther down the alley, Craig put a cigarette in his mouth that he got from the kid working the convenience store down the street who didn’t’ give a fuck about whether or not Craig was only 17 (he’d be 18 in a week anyways). As he began to climb up the stairs, a familiar voice stopped him.

“Well well well. If it isn’t Craig Tucker the dick sucker.”

Craig turned around and felt his bones almost freeze as he saw the familiar face of the kid who had tormented him nearly his whole life. He had graduated nearly two years ago, yet he still inched his way into making Craig’s life an absolute hell. 

“Heard what you did to Donovan. You know we don’t like that type of behavior.” His posse was close behind him. A redhead with a hoodie, a kid with a beanie who always filled up condoms with his piss and semen throwing it at random kids, and a guy from Craig’s class with thin hair and called everything. Literally everything gay. Fosse. If Craig remembered

“Want me to demonstrate for you?” Craig asked coolly. He was probably playing with fire. Especially since he didn’t even know how to control his powers. But if it meant that was the only way to get these fuckers off his ass, it was happening. 

“Gladly.” The main guy smirked. 

“Already turned on I see.”

 Another decision Craig quickly regret.

 The bully’s smirk quickly faltered and he nearly growled, his body transforming into something straight out of some comic book. The guys behind him snickered and backed away. He picked Craig up with one hand and threw him against the wall. It was hard enough for the wall to break, but not enough for Craig to lose consciousness, “let’s get one thing straight, dick sucker,” The bully held him up above the wall, hand on his throat, “you don’t get to mess with Clyde Donovan like that. I don’t know who the fuck you are, but stay in your lane, gaywad.”

“Seems like I’m not the only one sucking dick around here.”

That fucking did it.

The rest of the posse stopped their stream of laughter and looked at Craig with wide-eyes. Fosse backed away the most, whispering something about ‘now he’s in for it’. The redhead sneered and put a hand on the main bully’s shoulder, and the one with a beanie let out a sinister chuckle. 

“Okay. That’s where you cross the fucking line.” The bully pressed his hand harder on Craig’s throat, nearly cutting off all oxygen. Craig gasped and kicked his stomach, sending him at least 5 feet back with force. The bully coughed and held his stomach.

“Dude, let’s just get out of here.” Fosse muttered, backing far into the wall. He seemed to be paying attention to something above them though.

“No! We’re going to show Dick Sucker where he belongs in the super power world.”

The bully didn’t have time to walk near him. A figure jumped down from the building with a hand deep down against the concrete. Craig took this time to finally sit down against the broken wall, catching his breath. The figure was between him and the bullies. Wearing all blue with brown heat resistant gloves, his blonde hair was slicked back but the ends were in an unruly mess. A blue headband held it all back, and a mask to hide his eyes. There were tiny blue shots all around his skin and Craig could practically feel his hair sticking up from his hat. No doubt this guy was an elementalist. 

“Where he belongs?” The blonde asked, “Maybe I should remind you where you belong.”

The bully scoffed, “And what’re you gonna do about it, fag? “

“That’s _wonder_ fag to you,” the air suddenly felt cooler. The blonde began to levitate, and he kissed the palm of his hand, holding it in a fist, “and I think you need to get out of here, or else,” he shot his hand quickly towards Fosse, who let out an agonizing cry, “You graduated already yet instead of trying to look for a job or be any type of functioning member of society you’re still picking on minors for what? Kicking one of your boyfriend’s ass?” He clenched his other fist and waved it towards the two others, shocking them immediately, “Cos if that’s the case, I guess I’m your worst enemy.”

The bully charged again, but the blonde grabbed him by his shirt. Craig heard him scream out just like the others did, and he could only assume he was sending shockwaves throughout his body, “You leave. Or I’ll call the cops and tell them that this mess was a hell of a lot more than just an accident. You already have a record. They’re not nice to villains like you. I’d strongly suggest you take my advice.”

The bully shoved the blonde off of him before giving Craig a dirty look, “This isn’t over, Tucker.” He sneered. He turned and head off with his posse, back to the main road. 

The blonde glanced over at Craig, whose heart nearly skipped a beat, “Sorry about them. Assholes never grow up, do they?”

“Guess not,” Craig wiped the blood off his face, and desperately looked for the cigarette that had fallen out of his mouth.

“You’re the one who beat up Clyde Donovan?” The blonde asked, picking up the cigarette laying on the other side of him, he handed it to Craig, who scoffed and took it almost too harshly.

“Hardly,” he held the cigarette loosely in his mouth as he lit it up again, “I punched him and my powers were like ‘hey. I’m here’ and he went flying back. Serves him right for being a fucking dick.”

The blonde smirked, letting out a small chuckle, “You’re right about that.”

“You know Clyde?” Craig asked, exhaling deeply. This kid looked a little familiar, but it was obvious he was a superhero. But it would make sense that he was around Craig’s age.

The blonde shrugged, “Kind of. I graduated last year and remembered he was on the JV basketball team. He also hangs around those assholes all the time. Sorry again. We’ve been really trying to put them in their place.”

We? “You’re in Coon and Friends?” Craig asked, looking at the Blonde. He should have known.

The Blonde smirked again and winked, “or Freedom Pals, whatever you prefer though,” he got a little closer to Craig, leaning on the railings of the stairs, “you interested?”

“Barely.” Craig looked at the blonde’s costume. It wasn’t like Mysterion’s or The Coon’s. It was simple. Blue jacket. Jeans. Heat resistant gloves. The only thing fancy of it was the ‘W’ embroided on the jacket, “What’s the W?”

“That’s classified,” He winked again, “maybe if you join I’ll let you know.”

“My powers aren’t that good yet.” Craig knew that didn’t matter. Yet, the thought of going into wherever the Coon Lair was and accidentally breaking something in front of South Park’s best heroes would be completely humiliating.

“That’s a shitty excuse dude,” he took the cigarette out of Craig’s mouth and took a drag, eyes not leaving Craig’s, “So what? Super strength? That’s not that hard to control, y’know.”

Craig scoffed, the second time he’s heard this today. One from Kenny who doesn’t even have any powers (allegedly) and now from a fucking elementalist. He reached for his cigarette, but the blonde held it above him, smirking, “You know I could technically confiscate this. What are you? 16? How do you have these anyways?”

“ _Seventeen_. And that’s classified.” Craig deadpanned.

The blonde chuckled and gave him back the cigarette, “Alright super strength. Whoever you’re waiting for probably won’t show up,” he said that in a matter of fact tone, as if he knew Kenny and where he was, and what he was doing, “It gets pretty dangerous at night. So either head home or learn how to use those powers of yours without breaking an arm.”

“You’re not gonna walk me home like a true hero?”

“Do I look like a speedster to you?” he smirked again, and Craig felt goosebumps go down his neck, “I can call Fast Pass if you want me to though.”

Craig finally let himself grin, just a little. Enough to show his left canine under the metal straps against his teeth, “Nah. I think I’ll survive.” He began walking back from the alley, “Keep this city safe, Wonder boy.” 

The blonde chuckled before climbing back up the metal stairs, “You can count on me, Super strength.”

Craig almost chuckled as he finished off his cigarette, snuffing it out on the ground back against the movies. He looked back down at his phone in almost utter disappointment. Kenny still hasn’t messaged him at all. Maybe that blonde was right. He was busy. Craig shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed back home.   

* * *

 

            Kenny didn’t message him all that weekend. Usually that was common. But he was particularly good at letting Craig know what was up, especially if the two had plans prior. They had plans all weekend. Going back to Kenny’s Friday night, probably spending all Saturday morning getting high, seeing a movie at some point in the afternoon, and wandering around the whole city once Kenny’s dad came home. Craig was even expecting a full blown apology when his friend never showed up on Friday. Because that’s how Kenny was. But he never got one. He never got a message saying ‘hey dude. Sorry for bailing out on you Friday. Was fucking Wendy Testaburger now since she’s single again. Don’t worry. We’ll see the movie Sunday’.

         On Sunday night instead of staring aimlessly at his phone after his shower, he went into his parent’s room since they were the only ones with a full body mirror (Tricia had one too, but she’d probably scream at him for coming in only wearing a towel around his waist). He stared at himself hard. His wet hair with beads of water dripping on his small, not even broad shoulders, his small thin arms that had absolutely no bulk to them. He wasn’t like certain teens his age, who were already getting bulk from working out and doing other sports besides running. Sure, his legs were strong. But the rest of his body?

Craig stared down at his stomach. No abs. No bones. Just a short waist with a good amount of meat on them. He brought his one of his arms up and flexed. You could hardly see the difference. Why on earth did his power have to be super strength? An idea went through Craig’s mind. He twisted his tongue in his mouth for a minute before effortlessly punching the mirror.

Bad decision.

_Horrible decision._

The mirror shattered and the door that it was on now had a giant hole. Craig stared down at his fist and realized it was bleeding with splinters of glass and wood, “Oh shit.” Was all he could muster up before his mother came in gasping.

“Craig! What-” She grabbed his arm and stared at it. It was shaking uncontrollably and suddenly Craig realized how much it fucking hurt. His mother began to panic and yelled at his dad, who was also panicking and yelling back at her. He was rushed to the bathroom, his scattering for the first aid kit and he could hear his father murmuring about needing to get a new mirror. His mom helped get all the splinters out and wrapped his hand up good, “Craig. I know you’re excited about your new power but please. There’s no reason to test it out now. You’re starting a new class for this kind of stuff tomorrow.”

“But, mom, I just went like-“ He suddenly stopped himself. If he did that much damage effortlessly to a mirror, he didn’t even want to know how much damage he’d do to someone (unless of course that Someone was Clyde Donovan or the stupid bullies). “I...I didn’t even put that much effort into it.”

“Well, sweetie…please…just be careful” She wrapped his hand up in an ace bandage, kissing the top of his head, “Now go to bed. Don’t worry about the mirror. Your father and I will take care of it.” She left the bathroom, and so did Craig, he heard a little bit of arguing coming from his parent’s bedroom, something about his mother coddling him too much. Something about his dad not seeing the real situation. Same thing like every week.

Funny to think his special powers would ever change his life.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know if the "bully" even has a name. But he's that one 6th grader with the big nose and the green shirt thats been around since like beginning of the show.


	2. Skirmish Peace

            It wasn’t until Thursday night that Craig finally heard from Kenny again. He wasn’t even at school that entire week. And what made it worse, it wasn’t even an apology. Just a short simple text:

_Meet me @ Tweek Bros_

No doubt in Craig’s mind it was because he was utterly behind on schoolwork, and he needed Craig’s laptop and good wifi (something Kenny’s family couldn’t afford) in order to work on the Lab Report, due first thing in the morning on Monday.

            Craig opened the small door and saw Kenny at the counter talking to the kid who worked there. His name was Tweek. Tweek Tweak (and Craig thought _his own_ parents were cruel) He didn’t really know him that well, they fought once when Craig was 8, but that’s the only time he’d ever come into contact. Tweek had graduated either a year or two ago and there were hundreds of rumors about him being a crackhead. He looked like one with his wild blonde hair that stuck out in many different directions, his sunken in eyes, his constant shaking and jumping attitude. Craig was almost surprised seeing Kenny talking to him. He was more concerned about the black eye on his face, “Jesus dude.” He crept up behind him to observe the eye more, Kenny just gave him a toothy grin, “What the fuck did you do?”

“Oh this?” Kenny touched his eye. His grin didn’t go away, “Nah nothing much. Just dad being shitfaced. Sorry about this weekend,” You mean, _Week,_ Kenny? “Got…caught up in this.”

Tweek let out an audible scoff, “You gonna pay or what, Ken?”

Kenny paid and looked at the way Craig was looking at Tweek. He knew that look all too wel. He took his receipt and glanced at the guy again, “Tweek,remember Craig?”

Tweek looked at Craig very briefly, then averted his eyes. He was trembling, “Just a little.” He said tightly.

“Well, Tweek, this is Craig,” Kenny glanced at Craig, “Craig. This is Tweek. He graduated a year ago and no, trust me. Despite all of the rumors this guy isn’t as into crack as he looks like.” Kenny chuckled as he heard Tweek suck his teeth and turn around to get his coffee ready. Kenny and Craig sat at the booth a little bit in the far end, and Craig hooked his laptop up and let Kenny on it. Their city’s libraries weren’t as well off as the school, and Kenny was still trying to save up for a laptop of his own. His parents always hated Kenny. A ‘bad influence’ they always said. So going somewhere else to work on homework when Craig’s parents were home was the best option.

“you heard Wendy and Stan broke up?” Kenny asked out of the blue. Of course he’d be the first to know that.

“Really? Is that supposed to be surprising?” Craig rolled his eyes. Middle of fifth grade he made a tally of how many times Stan and Wendy would break up. He lost count somewhere between 12 and 14 in seventh grade. Though he has noticed that Wendy has started this habit of crying to Kenny about this ‘tragic’ situation.

“Might be serious this time, you know?” Kenny sipped his coffee, “She’s had it with Stan’s bullshit.”

“So she’s just gonna deal with yours?”

Kenny smirked up at him, “Is that jealousy I’m hearing in your voice, mister Tucker?”

Craig kicked Kenny’s shin from under the table.

“Look, it ain’t my fault I treat her better than he does. She’s outgrowin’ him anyways. Stan’s just stuck in the same timeframe from 4th grade.”

He had a point. But still, that didn’t mean Kenny and Wendy had to hook up immediately afterwards. Craig took a sip of Kenny’s coffee, contemplating if he should get his own. It was pretty damn good coffee.

“Anything interesting happened this weekend?” Kenny asked abruptly, not looking away from the computer screen.

Craig shrugged, “Since you decided to bail out on me I almost died.”

“Is that so?” Kenny smirked and looked up at him, “What happened?”

“The posse happened. You know the ones,”

 Kenny’s smirk quickly faltered, “Shit. You’re okay right? What they do? “

“They just made a bunch of gay jokes, go figure, and told me to leave Clyde alone.” Craig looked down at his coffee again.

“You beat ‘em up?”

“…Not really,” Craig looked at the door, making sure no one would walk in, “I kind of had….help. An elementalist.”

“Who?”

“Dunno their name. Said they’re in Coon and Frie-“

“Freedom Pals.” Kenny corrected.

“Sorry,” Craig rolled his eyes. Was it really that big of a deal? “Freedom Pals. He uh…he saved me.”

There was a loud clash coming from over the counter and a distressed noise. Kenny chuckled, “Careful there, Tweekers.” he yelled out, only getting a grumble in response. Kenny looked back over at Craig, rolling the mouse around a bit, “Sorry. I got caught up in some shit and wasn’t able to respond…or anything.”

“Just let me know next time,” Craig muttered, “So I don’t look like a fucking idiot.”

            After a small amount of silence, the empty coffee shop’s door rang, and the bullies, along with Clyde came in, yelling verbally out to Tweek. Craig sank in his chair, hoping they wouldn’t get a glance of him, but to no avail, “Dick Sucker.” He heard the big one murmur under his breath, before he was picked up effortlessly.

“I told you, this isn’t fucking over.”

“Jesus Christ,” he heard Tweek audibly set something down on the counter, “Can you be a decent human being and leave my shop alone for one fucking day?”

“he’s right,” Kenny stood up, giving them a small glare, “Put him down.”

The bully sneered at Kenny, then looked over at Tweek, who was holding an insulated coffee mug. Eyes nearly ready to kill with their stare alone. He grunted and put Craig down. Tweek put his hand down, eyeing Clyde, “What’re you here for?”

“I just need a…some tap water.” The way he said it made it seem like he was referring to something else. Craig wondered if he actually was a drug dealer. Tweek looked more annoyed than anything. Clyde was holding his arm tightly.

Tweek went in the back for a few moments and came back with a cup of water. He didn’t understand why he just didn’t get it from the fountain behind the counter, “You couldn’t have gotten that at Raisins?”

As he reached for the water, Clyde turned to Craig and drank it, all of it, his eyes not leaving Craig’s even once, “You wanna run that by me again, Dick Sucker?”

“Yeah. Raisins. That place you stay at. That place you brag about banging every single girl who works there. Raisins. The place right next to the Mexican restaurant and Peppermint Hippo. Why couldn’t you get a water there? Instead of coming here?”

Craig didn’t know what happened after that. One moment there was a really pissed off Clyde Donovan across the room from him, the next, the same Clyde Donovan was under him, as the two were punching each other hard. Blood was pooling on the floor. Their hands. Their faces. Suddenly, Craig felt an extremely uncomfortable shock go through his whole body. It made him grunt and roll on his back. Clyde stood up, gaining his balance.

“Get out! All of you! I’m trying to run a fucking business here!” His hair was sticking up even more than usual. Craig had a bunch of questions run through his mind. Was he the one who sent the shocks? Was he an elementalist? Was he _the_ elementalist?

No.

No way. Too anxious. There were many different elementalists out there.

Craig slowly stood up, watching Clyde and his gang storm out. Kenny closed the laptop and put it in Craig’s bag, “Sorry Tweek, want help clea-“

“No! Just get out, Kenny. Please.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose as someone came in, observing the mess that Craig and Clyde made. 

* * *

 

           

      Fortunately, Kenny got enough work finished so he didn’t have to rely on the internet anymore. It would be a pain in the ass trying to source it without using a reference though. Kenny was finishing typing it all up on his bed, while Craig sat on the floor against the wall, packing a bowl tight, “Why can’t he just leave me alone?”

“You did kinda egg him on, dude.” Kenny smirked, closing the laptop and scooting it at the far end of the bed, “maybe he woulda ignored ya if you didn’t open that big mouth of yours.”

“Careful. This big mouth gets angry. Maybe if his friend left me alone I woudn’t have done that.” He took a hit of the bowl, and got up on the bed, leaning against the window, handing it to Kenny.

“Well, he did let you go. You didn’t have to say that to Clyde, totally irrelevant dude.” He grabbed the bowl and took a hit, exhaling softly. He moved his head to face Craig’s face, smirking at him and leaning his hand up to take his hat off, “One advice about powers. Learn how to chill”

“How would you know? You don’t have any.”

Kenny’s smile faltered, “Of course I do.”

“and what’s that?”

“getting whoever I fuck to have multiple orgasms,” he winked at him, and Craig scoffed Kenny chuckled and nipped at Craig’s earlobe, “You know I’m telling the truth.”

“I wouldn’t count that as a power.” Craig put a hand on Kenny’s chest, who was inhaling from the bowl again.

“Of Course it is,” he let out an exhale, coughing just slightly. He set the bowl on the window sill and worked on kissing Craig’s neck, “who else can make Craig Tucker practically whine and beg for 5 minutes straight?”

Craig didn’t say anything. He just slowly gripped the sides of Kenny’s parka slightly, careful not to grip too tightly. It was hard to tell if that was the case at this point. When Kenny brought his head up to look at Craig, Craig hesitated to kiss him. They hardly ever kissed. Maybe it was because they technically weren’t together, just two horny teenagers who needed some attention, maybe it was because of Kenny’s commitment issues, or maybe it was just because Craig hated kissing. It was a nasty gesture. Saliva was slimy, wet, teeth would knock against each other, breath usually tasted bad, nothing was right.

Kenny moved his lips slow against Craig’s tonight, and it was almost bearable. He hovered over Craig who carefully lay back, cautious not to break the bed. Or the floor for that matter. They didn’t want to end up landing in the middle of Old Man Spencer who lived right under Kenny’s room. He let Kenny move against him.

Kenny made no hesitation with grabbing the lube on his stand and Craig eyed it. He didn’t remember it being almost empty last time he came over. A small pang of hurt ran down his body. The other teen noticed this and chuckled, “May or may not have gotten a little drunk with Kyle Broflovski last week.”

Craig recalled the name, but not the face. He ignored it, and ignored the fact that Kenny may have ditched him Friday night to be with whoever this Kyle Broloski kid was.

He just bucked his hips to show Kenny that he wasn’t in the mood for small talk tonight. Luckily he took the hint. As Kenny worked in his fingers, Craig gripped his biceps like always, nearly moaning his name.

“Ow!” Kenny jerked his hand out, “Shit dude. Watch out.” He rubbed his bicep, and Craig could see it bruising almost immediately, his face flushed. Kenny leaned down and kissed him, “it’s okay, relax.” He worked his fingers in again, and this time Craig gripped the bedsheets.  

Kenny slowly took of his own pants and spread Craig’s legs a little further. As he slid the condom on, he was muttering something dirty, while kissing down from Craig’s chest to his stomach, before lifting his head back up and entering him. Craig let out a low wanton moan. He couldn’t help but to roll his hips against Kenny’s, but the other teen didn’t show any sign of distress so he continued, wrapping his legs around his waist.

Kenny chuckled and kissed his neck, “Easy there,” he slowed down and slightly squeezed the base of Craig’s cock, “don’t wanna suffocate me.”

Craig loosened his grip of his legs, letting Kenny do most of the work again. Maybe this was good practice. Having sex with his best friend to get ready for whenever the fuck he’d get a _real_ boyfriend. Not that he knew how much he liked Kenny, but those feelings weren’t reciprocated. Either way, Craig let it happen. Once Kenny hit his prostate, he couldn’t help but tighten his grip on his legs,

“Ow! Dude!” Kenny tried to pry his legs off of him, “What’d I just say?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Craig let his legs off of Kenny’s waist. Kenny gripped his thighs tightly. Craig was sure he had much more strength, but he let Kennyhold onto him, despite his muscles trying to give in. He leaned all the way back arching his back, hands still gripping the bedsheets so hard he could hear fabric tearing. Kenny kissed Craig’s ear, “I should just tie you up. Maybe that’ll help.”

Craig bit his lip as he finally released. Kenny pulled out, jacking himself off and releasing all over Craig’s stomach, seeming to completely forget that he still had his t-shirt on.

            He stayed the night. Despite it being a school night. Despite getting multiple calls from his parents where he was. Despite Kenny’s apartment smelling like cigarettes and mold. Despite Kenny messaging other people, probably Wendy, or that one blonde boy that’s in half of their classes and follows Kenny everywhere he goes, nearly the whole night.

Early that morning, just an hour before his alarm went off, Craig had woken up from a vibration of Kenny’s phone. He glanced over it, expecting it to be another message from Wendy, or even that Kyle kid or Stan, but it was an amber alert. A kid named Scott Tenorman, 17 years old, was missing. Kenny shot straight up and looked at his phone, stopping the vibration. He let out a soft sigh.

“We still got an hour,” Craig muttered, laying back down. He wanted to wrap an arm around Kenny’s waist. Keep him there all to himself.

Kenny shook his head, “I won’t be able to sleep,” He put on a new pair of pants and disappeared in his bathroom for a few minutes, coming back with a purple book bag. He slipped his parka on, “I’m gonna get some dope. My hookup is only available during this time. You can chill here, but leave through the window. Dad will freak if he sees you here.” Before Craig could respond, Kenny was already out the door.

Craig sighed and dug through his phone, checking any messages or finding out who Scott Tenorman was. He narrowed his eyes.

He didn’t have an amber alert. 

* * *

 

      Tweek hated distress calls. What was even worse, he hated distress calls when he was at work. He had told Cartman to make sure it was an emergency. A fake ‘amber alert’. Flash Flood warning meant it wasn’t as serious. Missing child however, meant assemble immediately. He groaned as he looked down at his phone and saw some bullshit ‘Scott Tenorman missing’ on popping up over and over. He looked at his two other workers that day, “Family emergency. I really gotta run,” he muttered, “Mike is coming in half an hour, do you think you can handle it then.”

If there was one thing Tweek knew, he was a good manager. His assistant manager smiled and waved, in her cheerful voice as always. She gave Tweek a good luck and he ran out the door, heading down the alley. He climbed up the stairs, 6th window being his.  He gathered his stuff and made his way back down the alley, closer to the lair.

There was a mural on the wall. Something he and Kenny and Stan worked on for nearly 2 weeks. The police didn’t’ really care. But then again, nobody would oppose anything that was about the city’s greatest heroes. He knocked, slowly, quickly, then slowly again. Morse code for Coon. The wall opened, closing immediately behind him. There was a hallway with a locked door at the end. Tweek quickly changed into his outfit. Luckily, it was easy, unlike Mysterion or The Human Kite. He quickly went to the door, typing in the code: 379

The door opened and Tweek grudgingly went down, already hearing the Coon’s painful voice ring in his ears. Mosquito was the first to noticed him, glaring,

“Well, if it isn’t the traitor.” Tweek ignored him as he took a seat , “You too busy sucking Tucker’s cock to help me out?”

“You were fighting in the middle of my store. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Look, Fosse told me that you kicke-“

“They were fucking with him. Christ, Clyde. Why are you such an idiot.”

“Can you two talk about your gay orgy sometime else. This is fuckin’ serious.” Cartman boasted. Mysterion and Toolshed came in together, getting a look from Human Kite. They sat down together, next to Tweek.

“Okay, since we’re all finally here.” Coon worked on the projector and showed things on the screen. Pictures of a Robot. No doubt Chaos’ doing, “This attacked North Park early this morning. Toolshed and Fast Pass tried to fight it, but it shut off. But just on the 7 o clock news it was shown making its way down to this area. I need more than just those two. Captain Diabetes, you’re our brute. You need to stay under it as much as possible. Wonder, Kite, fly around it, attack as much as you can. Get it fuckin’ confused. Wonder, use whatever the fuck you do to electrocute it.  Kite use your lasers.”

“Hey! I can fly too!” Mosquito protested. Kite rolled his eyes.

“Clyde you retard, your only moves are fuckin’ bugs. You can’t do shit to robots with bugs.”  Mosquito was pouting like a five year old whose parents wouldn’t let him have a cookie before dinner, “Mysterion. Make sure nobody dies.”

“And what are you going to do?” Toolshed asked.

The Coon scoffed, “You think I’m gonna risk my life?!”

“You are a superhero. That’s what this is about. Not just fame or having your name all over the streets. It’s about risking your life for other people.” Mysterion stated, his arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“Not all of us are fucking netherborn, Kenny!” The Coon screamed, emphasizing the E in Kenny too much. Kite rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“You’re a fucking selfish prick.” Mysterion sat up, looking over at Kite and Tweek, “Let’s go then.” 

            Tweek didn’t know how or why Chaos had a giant robot attacking the city; or why he shut it off just to turn it back on. But it was the biggest pain that he had to do all day.

It was immune to electricity. Somehow. So he had to work around It and possibly rust the joints. Kite was no help either. As much as he hated to admit, Tweek worked better with Mosquito. But Coon was right. Bugs wouldn’t do anything in this situation. He rolled his eyes as Kite shot his lasers towards the Robot’s chest, only backfiring and sending him 10 feet back.

“Find it’s weak points!” Tweek shouted, immediately healing Kite, “You’re going too head on. She’s shielded in a lot of places.” Fucking obviously. Captain was able to take off one foot, holding it up above himself and chucking it miles and miles away. Praying that it landed on a mountain or some crop field Miles from here. 

Kite flew behind the neck, shooting lasers at the small bit that wasn’t protected. Tweek clenched his fists and flew down. Once his feet touched the ground, he let out a powerful ice blast. The other foot was frozen solid. Captain used this to punch the other. Unfortunately, it didn’t get as far. It destroyed the wall of the building of a major CEO office.

“Fuck.”

“You had to punch it upwards!” Mysterion yelled, avoiding the lasers coming from the robot’s chest.

“Well, I didn’t! Maybe if Wonder didn’t freeze it while the leg was bent maybe it wouldn’t have been so-“

“Don’t fucking blame this on me, man! You know how to punch upwards! Or do you you have to go back to school?”

“Guys shut the fuck up and help me!” Kite’s voice was loud, more high-pitched and annoying than usual. Tweek looked up and saw Kite in the fists of the robot.

He cursed and flew upwards, “You weren’t paying attention or what?”

“Just help me, Twitch.”

Tweek put a hand on one of the claws. Luckily, it was vulnerable to electricity. He sent a shockwave, strong enough to tear off the claws and slightly shock Kite. Kite winced and got out of the Robot’s grip. Tweek healed him again, and flew up to the robot’s face. She was ugly. Large nose. Fangs. Hair. Her boobs shot out lasers. Tweek was almost impressed at Chaos’ ability to make something like this.

There was a weak spot in her mouth, and Tweek smirked. He clasped his hands together, slowly pulling them apart as a ball of electricity was formed, getting bigger and bigger. He shoved it the moment she opened her mouth, but still getting hit with lasers. Her head exploded, body began to fall, and Diabetes tried his hardest to hold the rest of it up. But one brute wasn’t enough. Mysterion saw this struggle and ran to try to move the crowd as soon as possible as Captain dropped it. It destroyed the road. Tweek landed and rested against the robot’s body.

Kite ran up to him, “You alright, Twitch?” 

Tweek slowly nodded and Kite worked on healing him. Reporters came flying in. Tweek and Kite both cursed under their breath in unison.

“Human Kite! Do you know what caused this Robot?!”

“Wonderstorm, How’d you figure out how to destroy this?!”

“Captain Diabetes, are you willing to take full responsibility for all of this damage?”

Kite rolled his eyes and covered them with his kite, taking them down an alleyway and meeting Fastpass halfway there, who sped them back to the Coon Lair.

Tweek was exhausted. He sat down and drowned out Coon’s ‘good job but also you guys are super shitty’ speech.

“It’d be a lot better if Wonder _Storm_ knew how to not freeze a leg halfway in the air.”

Tweek scoffed and looked over at Captain, he had a glower in his face, but it didn’t look as intimidating with his freckles and tongue sticking out, “Oh shut up, Scott. Not my fault you don’t know how to properly pack a punch.”

“Twitch is right.” Mysterion jeered in.

“Of course you’d side with him.” Kite muttered.

“Kyle, shut the hell up. It’s not like you did anything, except shoot a bunch of lasers where Tweek told you to in the first place.”  Stan scoffed.

“Not like you were there, Stan!”

They all started arguing, two minutes. Maybe three. Four. Five. The bickering didn’t stop until Coon stood up and slammed his hands down on the table, “EY! Shut the fuck up!” he glared at Mysterion, “If you really have a goddamn problem with how we fucking run this place, maybe you should team up with that traitor, Token!”

“At least Token’s doing really well. Did you see all those criminals he wiped out at middle park in just one night?” Toolshed responded, leaning back against his chair.

“He’s part robot. Big fucking deal. He’s the type of person who is better at working alone.” Kite said.

“No. Cartman. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I will consider joining Tupperwear. We’d be a hell of a lot stronger than all of us combined.”

“Is that sup-supossed to be an in-in…is that supposed to be an insult, M-Mysterion?” Fastpass asked, getting a nod from Kite.

“Yeah, Jimmy, maybe it was. And maybe you can take speech lessons once you’re done sucking Cartman’s dick.” Mysterion took off his mask and placed it in his book bag, taking out his regular jeans and parka.

“Where are you going? Who said we’re done!” Coon yelled out.

“I said I’m done. Obviously you don’t need me. If it’s fucking robbers at the 7/11 again I’m sure you can just have Captain beat them up.” Mysterion zipped up his Parka and put his hood up. He wasn’t Mysterion anymore, and Tweek had a feeling this may be the last time he would be in the lair for a good while.

Tweek sighed and got up, “I gotta go, too.”

“What? To join Token? You fags would make a great team.” Mosquito chortled.

“No. I have a business to run. And don’t you two have fucking school? So shut your mouth before I freeze you again.”

* * *

 

       Craig nearly wanted to punch Kenny in the face when he came the cafeteria, halfway through the day. He sat across from Craig, wedged between Stan that blonde kid (he was pretty sure he went by Butters) that Craig couldn’t stand. He was too…nice, and followed Kenny around like a lost puppy.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Craig asked. Stan didn’t seem perplexed. Butters just seemed happy that Kenny was there. 

“Told you. I was getting dope.” Kenny muttered, taking out his lunch. He still had his purple book bag, it seemed stuffed with a lot more than just his notebook and computer.

“It doesn’t take you 5 hours to get dope, dude.”

“Kay well,” Kenny took a bite of his sandwich aggressively, “why do you care as much. Not like you’re my mother.”

“Kenny stop being a dick.” Stan said, on his phone while he was talking to him.

“Gee, Ken, you sure missed a day of History! We learned all about the abolitionists and this fella John Brown-“

Craig stopped listening to Butters. He hated the way he talked. He was too good for this town and really needed to move somewhere else. And Craig wasn’t just saying that because he leaned against Kenny. And Kenny had an arm draped around his side. No. That wasn’t the case at all.

* * *

 

        “Are you feeling alright?” Craig asked Kenny as they were walking to the metro station. They were making their way back to the coffee shop, since Kenny missed a good portion of History and Chemistry and needed to do research for both classes, “You seem, tired.”

Kenny shrugged, “Maybe it’s this strain I got,” he gave Craig a grin, “It’s fine though. I need better sleep.” He stepped in front of Craig when they got in the metro. Craig kept his eyes on the back of him, and his purple bag. He was tempted to bring up the Amber Alert. And the fact that Scott Tenorman’s body was found dead nearly three years ago. Perhaps that was secret code from his dealer, and maybe Kenny was high on more than just weed. He was no stranger to hard drugs.

            Luckily this time they didn’t have to worry about Clyde Donovan or Fosse at the shop today; but Tweek still had his eyes glued onto Craig and Kenny, commenting something about them technically loitering since they weren’t buying anything. Kenny jokingly told him to suck a dick. Tweek let them be though, and time went by and Craig noticed they were there until 4:30, the sun was setting.

“Here,” Kenny put a hand on Craig’s thigh under the table. Craig felt a small baggie, along with another hard cold glass pressed against him. He glanced over at Tweek, then down. It was at least 2 ounces of weed; already grounded up, and one of Kenny’s small bowls, “thanks for coming over last night. I’m gonna finish up this homework. I know your parents will flip if you’re not home a second night in a row.” He closed his laptop and stuffed it in his bookbag, putting a hand on Craig’s shoulder as he slipped out of the shop.

Craig sighed and stood up, going to the counter. Tweek looked up at him from the milk steamer. Two people were waiting for their espressos, “can I help you?” his voice was small, almost as squeaky and shaky as the rest of him. Yet, it was somehow intimidating.

“I wanted to apologize for yesterday. Doing that,” he gestured to the low dent in the middle of the floor, “Clyde’s a douche. And I kind of say shit when I should keep my mouth shut.”

Tweek scoffed, but he was smiling. He handed the first person their coffee, and began the other one. An Iced Mocha. In 13 degree weather, “It’s alright. At least one of you will apologize.”

“Why’d he come here for a water though? Like, honestly.” Craig looked up at the menu, tempted to get something. The aroma of the place was tempting.

“Oh. He just likes to mess with me.” He gave the college student her coffee, then leaned against the counter. They were now the only ones in the store.

“Bet you could punch him. That fucker is more bark than bite.”

Tweek chuckled, and brought a hand up to his hair. He almost brushed his hair out of his face. But he hesitated, and rubbed the back of his neck instead, “it’s tempting. I’m sure I have in the past anyways,” he waved a hand to him, “don’t worry about me. I assure you I can handle myself.”

Craig smiled at him and left. He gripped the bag of weed deep in his pocket and climbed up to the roof. He hated being alone up here. Easy target for a villain. Or even Clyde or Fosse. He thought of the one guy’s unruly body growing 10 times bigger than his average size last Friday night. It almost scared him, yet excited him.

Craig was never the one to turn down a fist fight He remembered as clear as day he Tweek actually fought each other when they were in elementary school. Tweek was 10 going on 11. Craig was 8. He had no intention of fighting him. But one day Eric fucking Cartman came up, and told Craig a bunch of shit that didn’t seem like it made sense, but Craig took his word for it anyways. They fought in shop class. A kid, Craig didn’t remember, died. Craig’s parents had to fight with the school to not get him expelled.

If he recalled, that’s when his weekly behavioral classes started. In that small building with a bunch of other kids half his size, a majority of them already having powers. The woman who taught them had a low voice and smelled like she washed with cocktail sauce. But despite being in this class, Craig never turned down a fight. He’d always find a way to egg someone on to fight him, even though he was never strong enough. Now he was. And he knew that once he figured out how to control his power, he’d kick Clyde Donovan into next Sunday morning.

He pressed a bowl to his lips, watching the sunset, thinking about running away. Becoming a car mechanic or maybe now even a boxer and making money.  

“And here I find you again alone on a Friday night.”

The voice made Craig jump and turn around quickly, he coughed out the smoke and quickly placed the bowl back in his pocket. The figure smirked and chuckled, “don’t worry. I won’t take you in for smoking weed. This is Colorado, legal.”

“Not to people under 21.” Craig muttered. His birthday was tomorrow. He wouldn’t have to use the ‘minor’ excuse anymore.

“Well in that case,” the blonde sat down next to him, and held out his hand. He still had the gloves on. Craig wondered why he needed to hide his hands, “let me have some and I won’t tell.”

Craig took out the bowl and handed it to him, along with a lighter, “Are you like, stalking me or something?”

“Ha. You wish,” the blonde inhaled from the bowl and handed it back to Craig, before slowly exhaling, “I’m on patrol. You just keep coming to my spot.”

“Huh. I come here every Friday night and I have never seen you before.”

“It’s technically Mysterion’s but,” the blonde let his feet dangle off the roof and he squeezed one of his thumbs, tempted to take off the gloves, “he’s been a little different lately. So we switched. Now he’s up in North Park, and I’m here.”

Craig stared at the blonde’s forehead, captivated by the blue lightning streaks going around him. He didn’t feel like talking about Mysterion, “Is your skin always like that?”

“What?” The blonde rubbed his forehead, “Oh. Oh, no. I can control it. It’s more just for decoration. To better hide my identity.” He gave Craig a genuine smile and Craig stared at his lips. He was familiar. Too familiar but he couldn’t put his finger on it, “So how’s the strength coming along?”

“Ugh. I can’t touch anything without being careful. I punched my folks’ bedroom mirror and did this,” Craig showed him his hand that had scabs and band-aids all over it, he then thought of last night, “and sex is….so difficult.”

“Oh.” The blonde scoffed and raised his eyebrows, “try not electrocuting your partner.” Craig glanced at him again and swallowed hard, nearly blushing. He wondered how it was having sex with an elementalist. How the shockwaves-accidental or not-must have felt. He wanted to apologize, but his mouth wouldn’t let him. The blonde stared back and chuckled, “Look, do something for me real quick,” he pointed to the entrance room that connected the stairs to the roof, “punch that. As hard as you can.”

“What.”

“You heard me,” he stood up, and took Craig’s hand, “punch it as hard as you can. If it breaks, not our problem. I can tell them it was some minor fight. If they even ask.”

“Christ.” Craig muttered under his breath, and stared at the small piece of wall. He looked back at the blonde, who looked curious. Craig took a deep breath and held out his hand. With all of his might, he punched the wall as hard as he could.

It was another horrible idea.

The wall crumbled into bits. The other side was completely intact. Just like last week when he hit the mirror, Craig’s hand was bloody, but it wasn’t shaking this time. It was hanging there like a limp noodle. He tried to lift it up but winced in pain.

“Damn, alright Super Strength,” the blonde said, and held onto Craig’s back, “sit down.”

Craig obeyed. Slowly. He was holding his arm tightly but the stinging that went through it was nearly unbearable. Last time he had broken his arm he was 14, and that was because he fell off his bike. The blonde fisted his hand and then opened it, and a small ball of water had formed. It shone. It was bluer than the Caribbean sea. He wrapped it around Craig’s arm, and suddenly, the pain was no longer there. He could move it again.

“Dude,” Craig stared at his arm, bending it around, “you’re like, the Avatar.”

The blonde chuckled and leaned back. His teeth were perfectly straight, unlike Craig’s, “Not quite. But I’ll take it,” he reached out his hand again and pointed to Craig’s pocket. Craig got out his bowl again and gave it to him. The blonde took a hit and looked at him, through the mask he wore around his eyes, “Let me help train you. I’m no brutalist but I can help you control the power. It’s a pain in the ass, trust me I know,” he took another hit, but he only inhaled half of the smoke through the pipe, which he handed back to Craig, who finished it off, “not to mention giving advice so you don’t accidentally suffocate your partner to death”

The blonde winked, and Craig blushed, coughing, trying to make it look like it was from the smoke, “It-it be greatly appreciated.” He muttered, standing up.

The blonde stood up as well and made his way back to the edge of the building, “So, next Friday then?”

Craig thought of Kenny. Usually this is where they would hang out. But Kenny hasn’t had a full conversation with him in over a week. Just about homework and sex. Craig nodded, “Friday’s good.”

The blonde gave him a quick nod before jumping up and disappearing, leaving Craig alone again. He sighed and leaned against the door of the now halfway destroyed entrance, finishing up almost all of the weed.

 

 


	3. The Immortal Corpse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE!!! I realized I called Butters a sophomore in the last chapter, he's not, he's their age. I'll change that asap. 
> 
> Also I was like half asleep when I edited this so I'm sorry if there's any mistakes I missed. I'll edit it again soon.

 

 

                Kenny snuffed out the cigarette once landing back down on the ground. It was nearing 3am, just fought off one of Chaos’ colleagues, along with a threat from General Disarray. It was something about watching his back. Or something, Kenny was only halfway paying attention to what that kid was saying. He was greatly disguised, along with Chaos, but he knew that the both of them were younger than himself. However, it was hard to tell who they were.

                Kenny looked up at the sky when it began to rain, thinking that his father would most definitely hear him come in, and Kyle was too busy working on his hideout to even offer to sleep over, Craig has been really distant for the past month. Kenny wondered if it had something to do with his powers. So he thought of the best option for himself and pay someone a certain visit.

He climbed the roofs again until he made his way towards uptown.

Butters was still awake, lights still shining through his room, still folding clothes that he seemed to always be doing when Kenny comes over. Kenny smiled from the window and slowly slid it open, “Leo.”

Butters gasped at his real name and spun around, “Ken! Whataya doin’ here so late?”

Kenny shrugged, “Couldn’t sleep,” he dropped down his bookbag under Butters’ desk. It had his Mysterion garb in it, but he trusted Butters not to go through it, “what are you doing? Laundry at 3am.”

“I uh, woke up from a nightmare. Decided to fold my clothes.” He smiled up at him, putting two more jeans in his dresser. His smile soon faltered and he looked over at his closet, almost distracted.

Kenny made his way over towards Butters, running a thumb over the scar on his left eye. It was his fault that happened. 10 years ago they were playing, but Butters was younger so he was always the victim. Kenny had stolen a few shuriken from the market, and he was fake throwing them at Butters. It ended up slipping from his hand once, and landed right in his eye. Ever since, he felt guilty. And it’s how he and Butters became close. 

Butters smiled at the gesture, knowing that Kenny couldn’t help himself. He put a hand over Kenny’s, “you haven’t been in school for the past week.”

“Yeah,” he walked a little closer and buried his nose in Butters’ hair. He smelled like his Herbal Essence Honey shampoo, “Karen had the flu. I had to take care of her.” It was a believable lie. Middle March when the weather began to become irregular, it wasn’t common for people to come down with the flu, especially in Kenny’s apartment. Flats with no heat. Rats. Roaches. Spoiled food. He was surprised that Karen actually hasn’t gotten sick this winter. 

Butters believed him like always, running a hand up Kenny’s chest and slowly leaning into it, “we can do homework here later in the afternoon if ya want.”

                They weren’t official, not yet. Butters wanted to be completely comfortable coming out to his parents before he made that big decision. And that probably wouldn’t be until he turned 18, which, wasn’t for another 8 months. Kenny slept around a lot, Butters didn’t seem to mind, which was weird to Kenny, but he might understand his commitment issues, or knew that he’d promise Kenny would stop once Butters came out.

                The two boys were awoken by Kenny’s phone, a heartbeat vibration that didn’t stop until Kenny picked it up. Butters stirred at the way Kenny adjusted himself to pick up the phone, but he soon nuzzled his face back onto Kenny’s chest, “What’s that about?”

Emergency mandatory Coon and Friends meeting. An Amber Alert about Pip Pirrup, a kid who died years ago from a nasty villain. Kenny rolled his eyes, making a mental note to let Cartman know that people would get suspicious if they keep using deceased people. He was surprised Craig hasn’t brought it up from a few weeks ago, “Just Craig,” he lied, but he did make an effort to look at the message Craig sent him sometime around 4am.

_Dude please come over._

A pang of guilt rushed over Kenny. Even though Kenny had a deep connection with Butters and already made a promise to him about them moving into an apartment together after graduating (no doubt in both of their minds Butters’ parents won’t approve of him being gay), he always had a soft spot for Craig. He technically was his first. Even though Tammy tried to give him a blowjob in the seventh grade and gagged and got embarrassed and ran home crying. Craig was the first one to give him a successful one, in the back of his father’s pick-up truck that they had taken out for a joy ride in the outskirts of the city. The two were only 14, and Kenny had already had a problem with drugs. He got Craig into smoking that night (both cigarettes and weed), and when Craig was barely there, he gave him an experimental blowjob after coming out to him as gay. The two haven’t stopped messing around since.

It was obvious Craig had feelings for him. It was a pining that couldn’t be ignored, but no matter how much Kenny wanted to like him the same way, he couldn’t. He looked at Butters’ sleeping figure and smiled. This boy had already stolen his heart.

_Sorry dude. Passed out at 11. We’ll talk in school, k? I’ll def be there today._

He put his phone back on the night stand and pulled Butters close to him. He ignored Cartman’s emergency. Butters’ alarm would be going off in 15 minutes and they’d have to get ready for school. Whatever Cartman wanted could wait.

                The moment Butters’ alarm went off, Kenny gave him a long kiss goodbye before slipping out of the window. He knew his parents knocked on his door within 5 minutes, and it was better to leave and get ready to go than to worry about the wrath of Stephen Stotch, and Butters being grounded for possibly three weeks. Butters held the back of Kenny’s hair as he leaned too much into the kiss, “you’ll be in history today, right?”

Kenny nodded, kissing him repeatedly, never wanting to detach his mouth from him, “Promise I will. And I’ll stay awake the whole time, too.” He rotated his body around to open up the window, but his lips still stayed locked to Butters’.  

Butters gave a chuckle and kissed Kenny’s shoulder quickly before giving him a slight push. They heard a door open from the other side, “Hurry up,” he whispered, “See ya soon, Ken.”

Kenny smiled and crawled out of the window.

 

* * *

 

                The moment he saw what condition Craig was in, Kenny felt even more guilty about ignoring his phone all night. He had a black eye, a bruised lip, walked with a limp in his right leg, and possibly a broken arm. Kenny licked his lips and watched him wobble to their table, and then he took a glance at Clyde, who seemed to be in a very good mood. His eyes didn’t leave Craig’s figure.

“Dude,” Kenny stood up and helped Craig to his seat. He gently put a hand over Craig’s arm that he was holding against his chest, and Craig let out an audible gasp, “What the fuck happened?” suddenly he wished he was like Tweek or Stan or Kyle, who were able to heal this in just one touch. 

Craig looked at Clyde’s direction, he was being loud with Bill and Fosse and a few other kids that Craig never learned the names of, about fucking Nichole Daniels a few nights ago (which wasn’t true. No way Nichole would put it out for someone like Clyde), “I couldn’t sleep so I went to go smoke. In our usual spot. Since like, my parents and all,” Craig’s fingers of his broken arm clenched just a little bit. It was his left arm. Which, wasn’t bad if you weren’t left handed. And Craig was, “I don’t know. He was there. I don’t know why. He had blood all over him and I made some comment that he was just in some blood kink. Or maybe it was something about ketchup? Dude I was really stoned,” Fosse laughed about something Clyde said, and the warning bell went off, “and he got pissed. Punched me. I went to punch him back. I succeeded. But, broke my arm in the process. Too scared to tell dad.” He grimaced in Clyde’s direction, and Kenny knew that whatever damage Craig did was long gone, possibly from Kyle’s help. Stan and Tweek were getting too tired of helping him out all the time

“I was just wondering if you knew what I could do with this. That’s why I texted you.” Craig explained. 

Kenny looked back over at him, and his arm. It was swelling up and he knew it would be a difficult 90 minutes of chemistry. Not with Craig knowing most of it but being incapable of even writing his own fucking name. Times like these where Kenny wishes Stan was taking chemistry, “I might know someone who can help you,” he didn’t want to give Stan’s identity away. Nobody even knew about Stan and his power. Gadgeteers were usually easy to hide. Just like netherborns.

                At lunch instead of sitting with his usual crowd, Kenny pulled Craig and Stan to a back table, Butters of course following since this was the only time he sees Kenny all day.

“What the hell, dude? Why are we sitting here?” Stan asked, his neck was craned as if he was looking out for somebody. The only people who sat here were the weird rejects who everyone avoided.

“I don’t feel like dealing with Cartman’s bullshit is why. Do you have that spray on you?”

“Always,” Stan looked down at his bag that had a green spray bottle in the cupholder, but he looked at Kenny, “what’s this for? And why weren’t you…at the stop this morning?”

Stan, Kenny, Cartman, and Kyle usually called their meetings ‘the stop’ when they were around other people. Everyone knew them hanging around the stop right next to Kenny’s apartment; even after they stopped riding the bus, “I was busy,” Kenny kept it short, but had a hand on Butters’ forearm as the smaller teen ate his lunch, “Craig’s arm is broken. Help him out?”

“Sure,” Stan took the bottle out of his bag, then stopped himself, looking at Craig, “you need to swear you won’t tell anyone about this. Please, dude. I’m trying to be anonymous and I don’t need a bunch of fucking people around me asking about how it is to be a gadgeteer, or worse, asking if I’m a part of that gay vigilante group.”

“Sure, whatever dude. Just fucking help me. This shit hurts.” Kenny wondered if Craig was irritated or if he was just in a lot of pain, but his vexed voice didn’t sound like his own.

Stan gently took Craig’s arm and did a quick glance around the cafeteria, making sure nobody was looking over in their direction. When he knew it was clear, he carefully sprayed Craig’s arm and put a towel over it. Craig winced for half a second before going calm, then picked up his arm slowly, looking at Stan, “thanks.”

“Well, gee, Stan, that’s mighty nice of ya!” Butters chirped, he was nearly in Kenny’s lap, whose hand had ventured to  his back, “I sure wish I could do stuff like that.”

“You don’t have powers, Butters?” Craig asked.

Butters shook his head, smiling sadly, “Nah. Not yet though. Maybe one day though. I’ve heard that some people don’t get ‘em till they’re pretty darn old!”

“Who knows,” Stan said, voice bitter, “you might get lucky.” Unlike Kenny or Tweek, or Kyle, or even Clyde, Stan has every reason to believe that Butters is Chaos. The blonde hair, the small figure, and that he just looks taller because of his shoes. And that it would make sense for having an eyepatch over his left eye, the same eye that Butters is blind in.  But no. Kenny knew better. Butters was too sweet, too innocent, too... _peaceful_ to be Professor Chaos. 

What broke off the tension were two too familiar figures approaching the table, and Kenny could feel his blood nearly boil. He glared, “What do you want, fat ass?”

“I need to talk to you,” Cartman was pissed. His cheeks were nearly red and he was glaring harder than Kenny was. Kenny began to wonder if he tried to fight something all by himself. Doubtful, “In private.”

“Dude, don’t do this here.” Stan glowered. Kenny knew what he meant by that, _we promised we wouldn’t talk about any shit regarding the group at school. Do you want to get figured out?_ Actually, knowing Cartman, he probably did want to be discovered.

“We made a fucking promise, Kenny!” there it was. The obnoxious way he over exaggerated the ‘E’ in his name. It bothered him just as much as the way he said Kyle’s name, “No backing out. You know how fucking important it is!”

“Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?” Craig asked. He gave Kenny a confusing look before looking up at Cartman.

“Cartman, just go,” Stan was getting irritated. He was probably already pissed that he had to show Craig some of his powers, now Cartman was arguing with Kenny in front of two people not part of the group, “you can bitch at Kenny later.”

“6 o’ Clock. You better fuckin’ be there tonight.” Cartman jabbed a finger in Kenny’s direction. Kenny flipped him off as he walked away.

“Gosh, Ken. What the heck was that about?” Butters asked, still looking at Cartman taking a seat next to Clyde.

Kenny shrugged, “Cartman being Cartman. I promised him some smack last night but my plans had changed.”

“Smack? Eric does drugs?”

Kenny shook his head, “His mom does. But he’s keeping it on the downlow, y’know? Don’t worry.” He brought up a hand to Butters’ hair, stroking it gently and gave Craig a look. He didn’t seem that convinced.

 

* * *

 

     As much as Kenny didn’t want to go to the meeting that night, he knew it would piss Cartman off even more to the point where he could put their secret identity in jeopardy. He came in. 6:05. Knowing how much Cartman hated it when they weren’t punctual (yet, he was always fucking late).

“You finally decided to come, huh?” Cartman crossed his arms over his chest, slouching back as much as he could in his chair.

“This meeting is about me, right? I think I’m aloud to be late at my own meeting.” Kenny took a seat where he always sat, glancing at Stan who wasn’t sitting where he usually does, which was right next to Kyle. Kyle was occupied on his phone. The only one not present was Tweek, who came in at 6:15, catching his breath.

“What the fuck, dude? You’re 15 minutes late!”

Tweek ignored him as he sat down next to Kenny, raising an eyebrow at his lack of clothing, “I was busy. Unlike any of you I actually have a job. This better not be a waste of time.”

“No. It’s not. Obvisouly there are some of you who don’t take this group seriously. When there’s a fucking code red. It’s a code. Red. I don’t give a fuck about whose coffee you’re making, whose tits you’re ogling, or whose dick you’re sucking,” Cartman glared at Kenny at the last statement, “This morning, we almost fucking lost because somebody didn’t feel like showing up.”

“Oh please, Cartman. Don’t act like you didn’t just fucking watch on the sidelines.” Stan interjected.

“Stan. We’ve been over this, I can’t get hurt. Coon and Friends wouldn’t be _anything_ without me!”

“Which is why it should be Freedom Pals!” Kenny stood up, irritated. He wasn’t having this conversation again.

“That’s the dumbest name! Everyone already knows The Coon. Who here actually knows about, boy wonder here!”

“Hey, fuck you, man! I got more interview questions the other night than you did.”

“Interviews shouldn’t even matter. You don’t see the real reason why we became vigilantes. Not for the fame, or the interviews. Or the merch.”

“He’s right,” Stan nodded, “we need to help civilians and work together with our power. Not just, fight about who has whose back all the time.”

“Oh dude, stop,” Kyle sneered. Stan gave him a confusing look, “half of the time, you watch from the sidelines, too. “

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do? Drill lasers don’t really work that well on robots.”

“That was no robot this morning, Idiot!” Clyde nearly yelled, “That was some…fucking monster or something. No way that was Chaos’ doing.”

“Mos-mosquito is right,” Jimmy spoke, putting his headband down on the table, seeing that there was no need for a costume this meeting, “We haven’t even s-we haven’t even seen Chaos in two m-months.”

“He’s planning something,” Tweek muttered, “that had to be his doing. Robot or not. He’s in hiding. I say we go find hi-“

“No!” Cartman’s voice boomed, “There’s no reason to! Chaos isn’t the only villain to worry about.”

“Yeah but he’s the only one who has the most success rate. The only one who seems to know what he’s fucking doing.” Stan was getting irritated. Kenny was fed up.

“We’re not talking about professor Chaos right now, we’re talking about us and what we’re going to do with this insubordination.”

Kenny scoffed. The fact that Cartman knew what that word mean was a surprise. He stood up, “Don’t waste your time. I’ll save you the trouble.”

“What? You’re gonna walk out like Token?”

“Yes. Fuck you, fuck Coon and Friends. Fuck your ways and your laziness? Do you even have powers?”

“Of _course_ I have powers, you fucking hick!”

“Sure. Yeah, well. I’ll start Freedom Pals. And I’ll do a better fucking job at protecting this city than you’ll ever do.”

Stan stood up, “I’m with you,” He looked at Kyle’s face, “I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of fighting over fighting.”

Tweek looked at both of them before standing up as well, “Me too.”

The three began walking out, Kyle whispering out a quite, ‘Stan’ but Stan wasn’t phased.

“Fine! Fine! Fucking leave you traitors! The code won’t be the same so don’t even try to come back!” Cartman was fuming.

Tweek chuckled as they made their way out of the lair, “Believe me, we won’t.”

* * *

 

    “So, Freedom Pals?” Stan asked as they walked down the alley. He had put his jacket and hat back on, with his belt over his shoulders.

Kenny smirked at him and pat his back, “Freedom Pals.”

Tweek smiled at both of them before climbing up the stairs to his apartment, “I’ll let T know.”

Stan gave a wave and headed the opposite direction to the closest metro station. He was lucky to live near Middle Park.

The streets were quiet for once, but Kenny still made sure he was on the lookout for anything different, for any little thing that didn’t seem right. He heard footsteps behind him, loud, heavy footsteps, followed by a deep chuckle.

“Looks like Coon and Friends is falling apart.”

Kenny turned around and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Professor Chaos was indeed intimidating, more than Kenny would like to admit. He stood about 6’1, (Stan said it’s because of the boots he wears, Kenny begs to differ), his face was hollowed in, but that could possibly be from the sharp metal helmet he wore, with lines that nearly cut like knives at the end of his cheekbones. Only a little bit of blonde hair stuck out, and he wore an eyepatch.

 (Though Kenny had a feeling he wasn’t really blind, it was just there for show)

“Sneaking up on us again, are we?” Kenny asked. He wouldn’t let Chaos know he was ever intimidated.

“Of course,” Chaos smirked and walked closer to him, holding out his hand. A small hamster clad in strange meticulous robotic armor crawled up on him, “I watch everything in this city. Consider me, an angel. Who does the job right.”

Kenny clenched his fists.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Another deep chuckle, “It means,” Chaos got even closer to him, “while you were out messing around last night, you put some people in great danger. One even being your friend.” He put a hand on his shoulder, “how much does Craig Tucker mean to you? His broken arm could have been avoided if you weren’t out with some other boy. Some boy you like to hide in secret.”

“Fuck you!” Kenny shrugged Chaos’ hand off of his shoulder, but this made the villain smirk even more, “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, Mysterion,” Chaos chuckled and put a finger under Kenny’s chin, “I think proving Park County’s ‘guardian angel’ wrong is all of my business,” his hand made its way to Kenny’s cheek, fingers prodding under his mask. Before Kenny could shrug him off again, Chaos brought a laser up to his temple, “especially my favorite lie.”

“You think I’m not netherborn?” he smirked and put a hand over Chaos’ laser, “do it then.” Chaos hesitated, staring at him with his one icy blue eye. Kenny chuckled, “what kind of fucking villain are you?”

Kenny pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm caught up with the completed chapters, next update probably wont be up until a week or two. But thank you all for the kudos and comments!! :DD


	4. A Delayed Verdict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I wrote the last 1000 words or so the moment I woke up, and I need to get ready for work so I was a little lazy over the editing process. I'll edit it tonight when I get off work, when I'm a little more awake.

 “Do it again.”

“What? Dude, my hand’s fucking bleeding.”

“Okay. Do it again.”

Craig grunted but obeyed the blonde. He punched the mirror for the third time, wincing at the shocking pain through his knuckles. Even though the blonde (Twitch is what he told Craig to call him. His super alias was WonderStorm) would heal him again and help take out the glass stuck in his hands, the bruises and scabs would be there for days, possibly weeks. The one on his left hand was just now beginning to heal. This time, he split the mirror into half.

“That was….. _all_ your might?” Twitch asked, picking up the mirror and setting it on the wall.

Craig nodded and began to pick at the glass from his knuckles. They were at an abandoned building, just a few blocks away from where Craig first met Twitch. Just Friday nights ended up becoming both Wednesdays and Fridays, and for the past few weeks it’s gotten easier. Testing his limits is much easier. It was simple now to know how to ease into certain things, even if that meant barely touching something in order not to break it.

But only with this left hand.

This week, Twitch only wanted him to use his right hand. And he realized how horrible using the recessive hand was compared to the dominant. 

                Twitch grabbed his hand and began to help pick out the glass before healing him, “It’s always hard with the recessive. When I found out my powers, I nearly electrocuted myself washing my hands. When I was learning, I hit Mosquito a few times. Pretty sure he’s still pissed.” He gave a small chuckle and wrapped an ace bandage around Craig’s hand, thumbing his palm for a split second.

Craig nearly got goosebumps at the prolonged touch, he and Twitch made eye contact, before Twitch dropped his hand back to his side, “So,” Craig started, “who trained you?”

“They all kind of did, or except well,” Twitch shrugged, “I was the last person to join Freedom Pals. The only person who didn’t do anything was Ca-…The Coon himself. He’s kind of a dick, which is why Tupperware left, and some of us want to change the name. He does absolutely nothing. I don’t even think he has any real powers.”

Craig nodded, thinking back of all of the news reports he’s heard since Coon and Friends first came to light. Everyone asked the same thing: what were The Coon’s powers? “It does seem like the fame of being a hero is over his head.”

Twitch scoffed, “Oh you have no idea, dude,” he sat down against the wall, picking up a piece of glass, “he tells us what to do, how to fight. Sure, he strategizes well, but at the end of the day when you eat up all that attention when you did jack shit, it’s fucking degrading to the rest of us. He doesn’t care about the city at all. Just himself.”

Craig sat next to him, bringing his knees up to his chest, “Sounds like a few people I know. Maybe The Coon is Clyde Donovan….is he?”

Twitch looked at him for a moment, before letting out a laugh. He shoved Craig’s knee playfully, still laughing, “Oh man. No. No. Clyde isn’t The Coon. But…. I do think I’m telling you a little too much about it.”

Craig bumped his knee against Twitch’s, “Then let me join,” he looked at Twitch, who had a small tint of red in his cheeks, “take me to the lair. Or whatever. Let me join. You can train me more sufficiently. Captain Diabetes can show me some stuff about being a brutalist. I promise I won’t tell or anything.” He held his knee close to Twitch’s, having a great urge to hold his hand.

Twitch sighed, and leaned the opposite direction from Craig, thumbing the sharp edge of the glass, “I wish it was that easy. I can’t just bring any guy with superpowers into the lair. You need to talk to Coon directly. He’s gotta be the one to let you in. I’m sorry.”

“Just, tell Coon? Right? You can do that?” Craig leaned a little closer to him.

“I’ll…see. He’s kind of full of himself and won’t listen to me half the time. But I’ll try.”

“It would be much obliged.”

“Don’t get too excited now,” Twitch winked at him, “What name would you go by?”

“I dunno. Super Strength?”

Twitch scoffed again, “Not that very original now, are we?”

“It’s simple. To the point. I’m not the one for creativity,” he pressed his shoulder close to the blonde’s, “I like it when you call me it.”

Twitch bit his lip and smiled, leaning his forehead against Craig’s; whose heart rate was beating faster than the first time he and Kenny kissed. That night in the truck, down at Stark’s Pond…

A sudden buzzing made them both jump, Twitch dug through his pocket and found his phone, groaning in annoyance, “I gotta go.”

“What? Are we do-“

“We are now. This is an emergency.” He stood up, “emergency meeting. I have to make it to the Lair. Might be another villain attack. Possibly Chaos.” Twitch started jogging out, Craig sprinting after him,

“So…So Friday, right? I still need to get better with my right hand.”

Twitch turned around and put a hand on his shoulder. Craig felt a spark, “Yes. Yes, of course. I’m sorry it was so short today. I’ll make it up to you.”

With one swift jump, he was gone. 

* * *

 

                Kenny wasn’t at school the next day, but that came to no surprise to Craig. He didn’t pay attention all day, just drew circles repeatedly with his right hand, hoping that would make it at least stronger. When lunch came around, Stan and Butters both looked depressed. Must have been the rain. He sat down next to them, not saying a word. Butters was picking at the crust of his sandwich, not even bothering eating it. Stan was scrolling through his phone.

“So,” Craig started, breaking the awkward silence at the table. Silence in a room full of noise was almost worst than complete silence, “you guys know where Kenny’s at?”

Stan shrugged, taking a bite from his apple, typing furiously on his phone. Craig wondered if he was trying to make up to Wendy. Butters bit his lip, “He was supposed to come over last night but I never heard from him.”

“Didn’t he go to Cartman’s?” Craig remembered the conversation from yesterday and how that fatass came over and nearly threatened him. Something about it didn’t add up.

“He and I hung out for an hour after that,” Stan added, a little too hastily. His eyes were scanning the cafeteria as he was talking, “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, dude. It’s Kenny. If he gets held back from too many absences, it’s his problem.”

But it nearly seemed like his problem. There was something that nearly made Craig’s stomach jump when Kenny missed so much of school. He almost got held back during 8th grade because of his absences. And the worst thing was that when he was gone, he’d be gone for a whole week. No trace of him. No messages during that week. No late night sneaking into Craig’s room. Not even him at home when Craig would get the balls to knock on his apartment door and ask if Kenny was there.

 _Sonuva bitch probly goin’ off high again. Wish he’d stay away from them damn cats. Or at least share ‘em with his old man._   His father would say, _no therrs no Kenny here today. Check again next week. When ya see ‘im, tell ‘im to quit makin’ his mother cry._   But his mother wasn’t crying. Craig would see her out of the corner of his eye smoking crack while watching tv with a Pabst Blue Ribbon on the coffee table. But Stuart McCormick would slam the door shut before Craig could even speak up, covering the Pall Mall and cat piss scented aroma.

 It was well known that once Kenny wasn’t at school on a Thursday, he wouldn’t show up until next Wednesday at the earliest.

 

                On a good day, Craig might approach Eric Cartman to see if he knew anything about Kenny’s whereabouts. But, it wasn’t a good day, and he definitely was not in the mood to hear Cartman fucking boast about things he wasn’t interested in.

However, upon finishing his homework that night, he found himself on the subway, on his way to Middle Park, some place where he knew Cartman lived near. Something Something Longfellow Avenue. The decent townhouses three blocks away from the school. Everyone in Park County knew which house was where the Cartmans lived. It’s where his mother kept her business. It was almost like a speakeasy, except with alcohol, it was prostitution. Craig wasn’t exactly sure how the set up was, and he honestly had no intention of finding out. But it was a big enough rumor that even Kenny talked about it. No way Kenny would lie about a secret brothel.

                He stared at the townhouse. Tempted to knock, tempted to just give up and hopefully find Twitch somewhere and get another day in of training, despite today not being on their training schedule. A noise distracted his thoughts up on the roof. Craig looked up, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

“The fuck you doin’ dude?”

Craig swallowed the lump in his throat, backing up from the townhouse just a bit. The figure jumped down, landing gracefully, despite his large size. “It’s none of your business.” Craig boasted.

The Coon laughed, it almost sounded familiar, “I run this fuckin’ city. I think it’s my business. Or were you just trying to get some action?”

Craig bit his tongue. Even The Coon knew about Cartman’s house, “I was. Looking for you, actually. I heard a girl here knew where you’d be.”

The Coon glanced at him, obviously not convinced. Wary, even. “So what? You wanna fuckin’ autograph?”

“No,” Craig raised an eyebrow. Twitch was right, “I want to join Coon and Friends.”

The Coon scoffed, “ _You_ want to join Coon and Friends?” he let out another hearty laugh before walking down the street, “yeah, right. Talk to me when you actually get powers, dude.”

“I do have powers asshole.” He followed The Coon, not even going to try to give up yet, “I’m a brutalist.”

The Coon stopped walking, “Brutalist you say? Hmm,” he scratched his chin and turned around to look at Craig, “Hold on. You’re Craig. Craig Tucker. The Craig Tucker who knocked Donovan cold two months ago?”

Craig nodded, “Pretty sure I’m the only Craig Tucker in this city.”

 The Coon scratched his chin and hummed even more. For what felt like almost an eternity, he finally spoke up, “Fine. I’ll take you to the lair and you can meet some people. Then we’ll see what you can do. If you suck ass, you won’t be able to come back. But we are a little…short staffed now. Understand?”

“Sure, dude. Whatever.”

The Coon got his phone out and sent a text. Next thing Craig knew, a flash of yellow and red sped up to him, and he was face to face to Fast Pass.

“Gee, Coon. It’s not like you to pick up a….p-pick up…pick up a…s-s-straggler.” Craig would never expect Fast Past to stutter the way he did.

“Just take us to the fucking lair, Fast.” The Coon held onto one of Fast Pass’ shoulders, looking over at Craig who was struck dumbfounded, “you can ask questions later, grab his shoulder so we can just fuckin’ go already.”

Craig held onto Fast Pass’ other shoulder, “Make sure y-you hold on t-tightly,” Fast Pass said, and within seconds they weren’t just outside of the lair, but inside as well.

Craig let go and fell backwards onto the concrete floor. It sent a crack down the middle and The Coon let out a groan, “Great. Now we have to get it replaced again.”

Fast Pass snickered, before helping Craig upwards, “Sorry. G-guess I should have warned…guess I should have warned you about that f-first.”

Craig gave him a sheepish smile as an apology before looking around. It was much smaller than he had ever imagined, and looked more like a villain lair than a hero one. It was dark, only a few lights surrounding them with a concrete floor that had the Coon and Friends logo painted right under the table. The only thing that was remotely interesting and intimidating was the universal sphere (which remained a complete mystery to Craig. But he knows that it’s what Chaos has been wanting for several years) and the large projector covering the whole wall.

“Well,” Coon sat down at his seat, along with Captain Diabetes. Besides them, it was quite empty, “Mosquito and Kite are out on watch, no reason to drag them back to talk about things they already know. Sit down. That seat is vacant, now,” he pointed to one of the middle seats, and Fast Pass sat across from him, right next to Captain Diabetes. However, the two didn’t seem to be paying attention.

The Coon started up the projection, “Here’s a few things you need to know if you even want to think about being part of Coon and Friends,” He pulled up a picture of Professor Chaos, “What do you know this faggot?”

“Professor Chaos? He’s like, pretty shitty right? Both to the city and as a fighter.” There was a stifled laugh from Captain Diabetes.

“You’re right,” Coon said, and went to a few other pictures, a slideshow of different advanced robots, “however, lately he’s been showing a side to him that all of us are surprised: building robots. We think he has help. We’ve been fighting him for 3 years now, there’s no way he just got the fucking idea of building robots and other advanced mechanics within five months. We’re keeping a close eye on him, but here’s what we really need to talk about.”

He moved to a picture of a logo of an eagle, with the words FREEDOM PALS written in the middle. Craig raised an eyebrow. Weren’t they the same thing as Coon and Friends?

“Freedom Pals is a group of fucking traitors. They started-“

‘Yesterday.”

“Shut it Diabetes! And…yes. Technically they did start just yesterday after that crackhead Mysterion walked out!” he showed a picture of Doctor Timothy, “I’m sure you’re familiar with him. He thinks he’s Charles Xavier. He physically can’t talk or walk so he’ll read your mind, and get in your head. Don’t let him. He’s the worst. Almost as worst as this one.”

The next picture was a Cyborg, but his mechanical parts looked more like plastic, “Tupperware. He left five months ago when Professor Chaos’ robots began to arrive. He got pissed I wouldn’t listen to his stupid theories. Just because he’s a cyborg doesn’t make him a goddamn engineer.”

The next picture was a guy with black hair, white t-shirt, and a toolbelt, “Toolshed. He left last night with Mysterion. Thinks he’s tough shit but can’t fight worth shit.” Craig nearly scoffed. He’s seen Toolshed fight before. He was good. Especially working with Kite. It surprised him that Kite didn’t walk out with him.

The Coon went to the next picture, “Mysterion,” he was by far Craig’s favorite. Craig had no idea if he actually had any powers but that didn’t matter. He was an excellent fighter, generous, giving, and everything that a vigilante should be, “he got pissed because, Jesus Christ I don’t even remember. Whatever. Don’t trust him. He’ll tell you some bullshit lies that he’s ‘netherborn’ or whatever and that he can’t die. That when he does, he’s gone for a week, then comes back and everyone forgets his death. Even if they watched it or some shit. It’s total bullshit. He just uses it to excuse of how many meetings he’s missed. And last, and the worst one,”

Craig’s heart nearly jumped at the last picture. It was Twitch, “Wonder Storm. This mother fucker has been around for 2 years and can’t do shit.”

“He heals us!” Captain Diabetes perked up, “he’s a really good healer. But. Coon’s right. That’s about all he can do.”

“Isn’t that...important if you guys are going to work as a group?” Craig asked, still looking at the pictures. In the photo his blue lightning streaks weren’t prominent, but he still had his hair back and eye mask on. But Craig tried anyways to see if he could recognize who he really was.

“I mean, yeah, but like, at least Kike has lasers and doesn’t just freeze his enemies,” Craig guessed ‘kike’ was supposed to be Kite, “Look, Wonder Fag is a shitstain. He’s weak. He doesn’t work well with others. Him not being part of us and in that shitty traitor group is no loss for us.” Coon turned off the projector, “they’re our real issues now. All the other villians won’t do nearly as bad damage than Chaos. And we need to teach Freedom Fags who’s the real deal.”

Craig fidgeted in his seat a little. He wondered why Twitch has never mentioned anything about them fighting, or Tupperware, or anything. Maybe it was relatively new? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Twitch left so suddenly last night; Coon did say it just happened all yesterday. He wanted to slip out unnoticed and find Twitch, and hopefully get some answers-

“Hey kid!” Craig’s deep thoughts were disrupted at the sound of Diabetes’ high-pitched voice. He looked up at him, “Get out of la la land. You said you were a brutalist, right?”

Craig nodded, a little dumbfounded at his lisp.

“I can help train you. I’m sure it’s been a pain in the ass trying to control everything,” he looked down at the crack running down the floor.

“Yes, please.” Even though Twitch’s training has helped, there were still many things he couldn’t help out with. Training with another brutalist would be much more sufficient.

“So, we’ll meet back here tomorrow night-“

“I’m busy tomorrow night,” Craig interjected. He almost wish he didn’t with the way Coon looked at him.

“….Fine. We’ll meet Saturday. But if you really want to be part of this, you don’t skip meetings. This is superhero life you’re living. It’s your number one priority. Even before school. So don’t be like Mysterion or Kite.” Craig gave a lazy nod before standing up, “You’ll meet the rest of the team on Saturday and start training. Then we’ll figure out an alias the stronger you get,” Fast Pass began to guide Craig out, and Craig hesitantly held onto his shoulder, “and remember Craig Tucker,”

He looked back at The Coon,

“If you team up with Freedom Fags, you’re fuckin’ dead.”


End file.
